Of course I was in Academic Decathlon

It’s surreal how quickly time gets away from me…I’m done with the weekly recaps. I keep essentially the same thing in paper format in my planner. The aesthetic of a paper planner is still too wonderful and convenient for me to give up.

I had lunch with my pops today and in the restaurant was one of the academic decathlon coaches from my high school. I wasn’t fond of him in high school, I thought he was supremely pompous, but he pushed us to consider philosophy and consciousness in ways that I hadn’t considered previously in my short life.  I remember him lecturing us on the Enlightenment, Descartes, and dualism and I remember resisting furiously because Descartes wholeheartedly believed animals could not feel pain.  Woah, anyway, back on track, seeing this teacher maybe me remember how hard I pushed myself academically when I was in school. How I wanted to be successful even if I didn’t know what that meant. It gave me pause to consider where I am now; would the 15 year old version of me consider the 28 year old version? Am I successful?

In most aspects of my life, I think I am wildly successful.  I am healthy and strong, probably in the best shape of my life, and getting stronger by the week. I am so happy and in love. In fact this morning while driving to work, I was looking at my engagement and wedding rings and was so overcome remembering how much these two pieces of metal truly mean to me that I cried and had to call the husband just to squeak out an “iloveyousomuch”.  I own a mother fucking house, which is really pretty badass. Every time I drive down our driveway I feel so accomplished and proud to know that at 26 years old, I bought a nicer home than I could have ever dreamed of owning in my entire life.  But my “career,” what am I truly doing? In all honesty, I’m coasting. It’s easy, pays well, they mostly let me do whatever I want, and they seem to like me. But am I happy here? Nope. It’s boring. It doesn’t not challenge me and I seek my daily affirmations elsewhere.

Am I confusing self-satisfaction with career satisfaction? I’m not sure. I am really happy with my life overall. My “career” (I’d really prefer to call it a job) is just what I do. It doesn’t define me, it doesn’t bring undue stress or extreme pleasure.  Am I settling? Or does the comfort and ease of this job provide me to live every other aspect of my life to the fullest? I don’t feel like my job is prohibiting my lifestyle or impeding on my self-satisfaction in any real way. Sometimes it sucks and sometimes it’s inconvenient, but what is life without a little suckage and inconvenience? Don’t sucky inconveniences help you to appreciate the awesome times that much more?

I’m not sure I truly remember what I thought I’d be doing at 28 when I was 15…but can I push myself to search for something more satisfactory to do with my 40 hours a week? Absolutely.